


Drop

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Fainting, Fluff, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: Malcolm faints because he doesn't focus on eating. It happens enough times the team decides to step in to help with reminders.For Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt Fainting.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 235
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Drop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Machancheese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machancheese/gifts).



The first time it happens, Malcolm’s walking up the stairs to the precinct, and then, he’s not. He comes to a moment later, a concerned passerby asking if he’s alright, but he waves them off.

The second time, he’s at home. He’s slicing a banana for Sunshine, and then he’s on the floor. His eyes open to the knife beside his hand, all skin intact. He’s having too many close encounters with precise knife position.

The third time, he pops up from his desk to show Gil Ainsley’s message, but all he gets is black. He wakes up on the couch in Gil’s office. But it's Dani's eyes looking back. "You good?" she asks.

"Yeah." He sits up, his vision painted with black. He couldn’t have been out more than a minute.

"Eat this." She pokes a granola bar at his hands.

"You're feeding me now?" he teases, pulling back on the plastic proclaiming chocolate chip peanut putter.

"Someone's gotta." He sure wasn’t completing the task.

He bites into the bar, approving of its sweetness melting onto his tongue. “Where's Gil?"

"Upstairs. Boss man,” she provides the little detail she knows.

"How'd I get here?" He last remembers his desk. A text.

"Me. JT." She waves her hand toward the door. "He's getting you matzah ball soup."

He shakes his head; not the best of ideas to clear his vision. “I’m fine - you really don't need to fuss."

"If Gil knew, you'd be home right now,” she points out and pokes her fingers toward the bar. “Eat, then case."

"If I say _yes, mom_ , are ya gonna swat me?" he teases, looking over the plastic.

"Might let your ass hit the deck next time,” she taunts in return.

“Touché.” He gets in another bite. “Do you know the origin of touché?”

“It’s French. Eat your food,” she directs. She doesn’t need him to stand up and pass out again.

“Yes, mom.” He gives her his puppy dog eyes.

She rewards him with a light swat on his shoulder.

* * *

The fourth time, he's getting out of Gil's car at a scene when he drops unceremoniously onto the pavement. Gil grabs bags of Swedish Fish and pretzels out of his glove compartment and comes around the car to Malcolm propped up against the side, JT looking over him. Dani makes it around about the same time. "Do we need to put you on a timer?" Dani asks, somewhat exasperated.

Gil opens the bags and puts them into Malcolm's hand, directing him to eat. Malcolm tentatively eats a few of the candies, yet waits on diving into the pretzels.

"Give me your phone," Dani prompts, reaching out her hand. "C'mon." She wiggles her fingers.

He hands it over and goes back to the Swedish Fish. Moments later, the phone’s in his hand again. "What'd you do?"

"Set an alarm for you to eat,” she huffs, her hands in her pockets.

JT snickers and takes a few of the pretzels Malcolm offers him.

Gil grabs Malcolm’s hand to help him up to his feet. "You eat the pretzels, and then you can come inside."

"But - " Malcolm tries to protest.

"Or I'm calling Adolpho to take you home,” Gil shares the alternative.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me. Eat. Or spend an afternoon with your mother." Gil locks eyes with Malcolm in warning, and Malcolm resigns to finishing the pretzels.

* * *

At one the next day, Malcolm's phone buzzes and he looks at the screen. _EAT dummkopf_. Baby carrots appear in front of him before he can contemplate vending machine or street. "I don't want 'em," JT explains, closing the lid on his Tupperware.

Malcolm’s more interested in what dummkopf means, so he does a little research in between bites.

"She called you a shithead." JT catches the screen as he’s rounding the table.

"This says blockhead." Malcolm turns the phone to him.

"Definitely means shithead,” JT argues. He’s been on the receiving end of it a few times. He’s told her worse in several languages in their game of curses.

Malcolm decides to consult a third source, pulling up a second search link.

"You eat dinner last night?" JT asks, leaning on the table before he leaves.

"No."

"I'll give ya another one." At Malcolm's nod, JT takes Malcolm’s phone and adds a new alarm.

* * *

Seven that evening, Malcolm's phone buzzes again. _EaT ShiTHeaD_. He smiles and moves to retrieve a piece of bread. A few minutes later, he gets a text from JT, "so there wasn't any confusion :P".

The sandwich bread tastes like lunch with the team, customary and light on his stomach. Sunshine tweets. “Not for you, girl,” he soothes, sticking his finger into her cage to give scritches.

Sunshine beaks him, trying to decide if he’s an interesting branch to play with. “You want to come out? Just give me a few minutes to finish so you don’t try to eat this.” He takes another bite, gumming it into his cheek before swallowing.

She beaks him again, and he decides that’s agreement.

* * *

At his mother’s the next evening for dinner, his phone buzzes, and he takes a look. His natural smile draws her attention. “What has you glowing this evening?” Jessica asks, exchanging a glance with Ainsley.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he brushes her off, pushing food around on his plate.

“It’s _something_ ,” Ainsley persists, kicking his foot.

“Team reminding me to eat.” He looks at his food so he can avoid their faces.

“That’s ridiculous,” Jessica dismisses, taking a sip of her wine.

He shrugs. “Warranted. I’ve eaten three things today that weren’t Twizzlers or seltzer.”

“Don’t you deserve a cookie,” Ainsley teases, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Well hoo-ray,” Jessica mocks. “Maybe they can start you on solid foods next,” she references his childlike behavior.

“Mother.”

“Be a dear and pass the gravy,” she requests - the conversation has ended.

* * *

It’s a week later when calendar reminders start popping up on the team’s phones. At nine-thirty, Dani’s prompted with an appointment for ten that reads _Bright says thank you_ with an IOU for Earl Grey tea attached.

At ten-thirty, Gil clicks on a notification that says _thanks as always - coffee on Bright_. There’s a voucher attached he has no idea how to open for the coffee shop next door.

At twelve-thirty, JT’s phone buzzes _thank you - lunch on Bright_ for one. Mexican arrives from a delivery service, and they all get to make their own tacos. Malcolm even takes a small bowl of rice and corn.

“Thank you, all.” Malcolm wrings his hands a bit, part feeling awkward for needing the reminders, part anxious over attention being directed to his shortcoming.

“Someone had to do it,” Dani grumbles under her breath, and Malcolm jokingly jabs his elbow at her ribs.

“Bro, why are these calendar invites instead of texts? Do you need a tutorial in using your phone?” JT gives him a hard time.

“You’ll see.” Malcolm waves him away.

There’s a sprinkle of invites that drop onto their calendars from an automated service over the next few weeks. Coffee, tea, walks to undisclosed destinations. Smiles, and thanks, and attempts at improvement. The progress is faint, he’s still not eating much, but he’s trying.

And that makes all the difference. It’s been 23 days since he’s dropped. But who’s counting?

Gil, in ballpoint pen on the back of an index card, keeping track of whether Malcolm has eaten lunch. There’s a stash of pretzels and mixed candy in his desk. A six-pack of seltzer. And a pile of vouchers promising him free coffee.

JT, with a bag of baby carrots in the fridge that he drops into his Tupperware. “Extra,” he says like they're unplanned. They aren’t. Neither are the sweets Tally sneaks in to give to him. His daily task reminder app tracks how many days he’s _checked on Bright_.

Dani, whose conscience is noting whether he looks peaked. Dum dum pops line a desk drawer, and she lets him in on her secret stash of peppermint patties. He doesn’t seem to eat them, but he replenishes them as she does.

None of the provisions are needed. But they’re always at the ready to catch him.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
